


Talking about Elephants

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, M/M, Post-Reichenbach, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 06:57:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Reichenbach. Mycroft is tired of waiting for his little brother and the doctor to talk their issues out so he takes matters into his own hands and won't stop until he achieves his goal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talking about Elephants

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the amazing holesinthesky for the beta and Britpick. :)

John Watson padded down the stairs, yawning softly and scratching the back of his head. He was wearing his boxers and nothing else (it was a known fact at 221b that he didn’t like sleeping in clothes. It made him feel restricted). He went directly into the kitchen, ignoring the two impatient men in the living room. He could feel the tension crackling between them, sucking up all the air in the room. But John didn't give a damn. It was six in the bloody morning; if they had to do this now, he might as well make tea.

He filled the kettle, put it on the stove and just stood there for a moment before joining Sherlock and Mycroft in the living room. Both men glared at him and he ignored them as he sat down on the sofa next to Sherlock.

“This had better be a matter of national security,” he said when he noticed the bags under Sherlock’s eyes “because I’m awake at six in the damn morning on my only day off in two weeks and you woke your brother up. After I had to spend an hour last night convincing him to sleep.” He sighed deeply. “Both of those things could get my blood boiling right now so what do you want, Mycroft?”

Mycroft smiled that sweet, fake smile of his and tapped his finger on his umbrella, looking from Sherlock to John then from John to Sherlock, saying nothing. John was starting to feel uncomfortable under the scrutiny of Mycroft’s gaze and was about to speak up when he beat him to it.

“I want you both to see someone.” He started and John expected a huff and a “not interested” from Sherlock but he was awfully quiet. John had the impression that Sherlock and Mycroft already had this conversation while he was making himself presentable and now Mycroft was simply getting John up to speed. Like some sort of courtesy. He sighed. This was going to be a long day.

“Is this for a case? Because you could have just left the file with Mrs. Hudson. She’d have made sure we got it.” John frowned.

“Not a case, no.” Mycroft said, a tight smile betraying his frustration. “Something of a personal matter.”

The kettle boiled and Sherlock sprang to his feet, shoving John back down when he started to get up. John glared at the back of Sherlock’s head as he disappeared into the kitchen.

“I would like you and Sherlock to visit  a certain Ms. Michelle Hirscheimer,” There was a loud bang from the kitchen, accompanied by some eloquent swearing. “She’s a couple’s counselor.” Mycroft continued easily, paying no attention to the sounds from the kitchen.

“I don’t understand.” John frowned, his eyes moving towards the kitchen every couple of seconds. “Why would we need to see a couple’s counselor?”

There was another loud noise from the kitchen and John had enough. “Excuse me.” He said and got up, arriving in the kitchen to find pieces of his favorite mug all over the floor. His expression contorted into one of anger and exasperation. 

John noticed Sherlock’s bloodied hand, at once forgetting all about his mug. He walked around the broken pieces of crockery and grabbed Sherlock’s uninjured hand, tugging him into the bathroom. Sherlock followed, huffing when John pushed his hand under the tap to clear away the blood and inspect the cut.

“It’s not too deep. You don’t need stitches.” John pushed Sherlock to sit down on the edge of the bath then started bandaging his hand. He looked at Sherlock, noting again that he was more quiet than usual.

“Hey, you alright?” John asked.

"Mycroft is ridiculous. We don't need a 'couple's counselor'", he spat 'couple's counselor' in the same tone he used to refer to Anderson's 'work'. "All that sugar in his blood must have finally gone to his brain." He looked up at John, eyes wide, expression hopeful. "We could have him ruled insane and locked up where he'll never be able to burden us with his presence again."  

John chuckled and shook his head, fondness etched into his features. “Desperate much?” 

Sherlock scowled, flinching when John accidentally pressed directly on the cut. 

“Sorry.” he said, his touch turning a tad softer after that. 

“We don’t need his help!” Sherlock growled.

“So to show your defiance you break my favorite mug, cutting yourself in the process?” The corner of John’s mouth twitched and, unthinking, he brought Sherlock’s hand to his lips and kissed the cut over the bandage, like his mother used to do for him when he was little. The moment he realized what he’d done, his cheeks flushed and he cleared his throat, taking a step back. “Sorry I...”

Sherlock’s own cheeks were flushed now and he took his hand back, standing up. “It’s fine. Thank you.” He walked past John out of the bathroom, John swearing under his breath before following him.

As soon as John sat down, Mycroft continued as if nothing had happened. “You need to talk about what happened. It’s been six months since Sherlock came back and not one word has been said about the elephant in the room. I believe there is some unresolved...tension between the two of you. Though, of course, you are both very good at denying it.”

“That’s none of your business.” John said through gritted teeth.

“But, you see, it is. Sooner or later, this...tension will become so great that one of you will snap.” He looks at John as he says this and John swallows hard. 

“Why do you care?” Sherlock growled. Mycroft glared and John rolled his eyes.

“You know why, Sherlock. I’d rather not go through _that_ again. Honestly, I don’t think you could handle it again. Do you?”  

Sherlock went rigid, his eyes still shooting daggers at Mycroft.

“What’s he talking about, Sherlock?”

“Nothing of importance.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

“Not now, John.” 

Mycroft got up, retrieving a business card from his jacket and holding it out. Neither made a move to take it. “Childish.” Mycroft rolled his eyes and put it on the coffee table between them. “This is a losing battle,” Mycroft said, addressing both of them this time. “You will go to see this doctor. She is the best, of course. If you don’t, I will be forced to take drastic measures. Concerning _both_ of you. I can make your lives very unpleasant.”

“You already do and you’re not even trying.” Sherlock grumbled under his breath and John had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from chuckling. Mycroft glared.

“Goodbye John,” he said and turned to leave. “First appointment is this Friday. Do show up. Her sessions are £350 an hour.” And he was gone.

John waited until he heard the door downstairs open and close before he turned to Sherlock. “We’re not actually going to go, are we?”

Sherlock looked at him amused. “Of course not. Although I am interested to see _how_ Mycroft will force us to go.”

“Perfect. Tea?” John stood up.

“Yes, thank you.” Sherlock nodded.

“John?”

"Hm?" 

He stopped and turned around, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. Sherlock had taken the laptop off the coffee table and had it open on his lap as he looked up at John. “I’m sorry about your mug.” He looked away quickly and started typing.

John blinked, too shocked to say anything. The only other time Sherlock had genuinely apologized to him was when he had come back. That’s it. He nodded but Sherlock was no longer paying any attention to him. A stupid smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he walked into the kitchen. It dissolved as soon as he saw the mess Sherlock left behind.

_Back to work then._

  



End file.
